Sins of my father
by Carbon65
Summary: When I was little, my father was my hero. Then, I got older, and he was the person I hated more than anyone in the world. But, now I worry I might be turning into him. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1: Faded Pictures

_A/N: I've had this story in mind since I wrote my first Glee Fan Fic. Its sort of a sequel to "Time to Get up", although you don't really have to read the first one to understand this. It was originally a one shot, but who am I kidding? I _never_ manage one-shots._

**DISCLAIMER:** **I do not own the rights to Glee. If I did, I wouldn't be writing Fanfic, or sharing an apartment with large black beetles. **

When no one's watching, I like to pull out my wallet and look inside. Sandwiched between my drivers license, the condom I keep for emergencies, and the empty pockets for money, are two photographs. They're a lot a like. In both, a young man holds a baby carefully in his arms. He looks scared shitless, and a little bit nervous that he's doing something wrong. Each is crossed with white lines, like little scars. They have been balled up and smoothed out a thousand times. Then, there are differences. The older snapshot is an actual photograph. The man has bleached blond hair, and a little boy leans against his leg. In the new one, a print out from a cell phone camera, the father and daughter are alone in the nursery. When I look at them, I wonder where the man in the older picture is… and how the baby is in the newer one.

Normally, I can slip the pictures back into the wallet, and shove it down into my back pocket. Then, I can saunter off like the Badass everyone knows I am. But, today, I can't tear my eyes away from the pictures. I am mesmerized by the similarities between the two men. Both are undeniably handsome with their dark hair and brown eyes. Both have been described as intelligent if they'd apply themselves, passionate, and charismatic, what ever the fuck that means. Both are about to abandon their baby daughters…

The pictures crumple again in my hand. I have to keep from throwing them away. I stand in the corner behind the stairwell and battle to stay in control. Then, I see _him_. How can he sit there, with that half smile playing across his lips? How dare he smirk at me that way? It almost makes me want to throw a slushie in his face… which is strange, since I haven't had that particular urge since I took my own cup of grape gunk to my face. Throwing people in dumpsters? Taking their lunch money? Sure, but not slushie facials.

"Puck, What up?" He asks, his voice loud in the little space. God, have I suck so low that the Geeks feel they can acknowledge me in the hallways?

"Nothing!" I say, angrily. I move to leave the alcove, but he blocks my path. I can't climb over a kid in a fucking wheelchair. It would be so… _gay_, and I am NOT Kurt Hummel. I am NOT gay. No matter how good Mike Chang looks in his football pads, or how much I sometimes want to kiss Kurt Hummel's lips. I've fucked half the cougars in Lima, and most of the girls in school. I've got the president of the fucking celibacy club pregnant. And, I can't move him out of the way. I remember how much I hated it when someone tried to move me when I was in my wheelchair for that stupid Glee assignment.

"Puck, you're not a good liar," he tells me. He's trying to bait me, and somehow, its working. I feel the pressure rising inside me. "I sometimes wonder how Finn didn't figure out Beth was yours sooner." The mention of my daughter's name hits a nerve.

I loose my cool, completely. If I'd had an egg, I would have thrown it in his face. If I'd had a knife, I would have slashed his tires. But, my hands are empty except for the ball of photographs. So, I do the next best thing. I slam my fist into his glasses, feeling the metal give way under my knuckles. He tilts backward, and I run.

Running isn't cowardice, not when you have a good reason, I tell myself as hurry out of the school. William McKinley High can go to hell. The worst Figgins can do is add time to my suspension. You can't get expelled for beating up another student, only a teacher. I know this from personal experience.

"Stop." The command is so unexpected, and so authoritative that I do. The person issuing it is one of the only people in the world I can bring myself to listen to. I turn to see Quinn Fabray walking toward me. She is back to her pre-pregnancy weight. She wears a Cheerio's uniform, but this year, she no longer has that steely glint in her eye. Even though the weight is gone, the glow that came from pregnancy has not. My baby mama is not only hot enough to make me want to tap her ass again, she is beautiful.

"Damn it, Puck, why did you punch Artie?" She demands, her hands on her slim hips.

I shrug. "I didn't like his fucking glasses."

"Liar." Her eyes cut into me like a leather belt. For some reason, the look hurts more.

"Nobody fuckin' respects me around here. I'm the Puck-fuckin'-saurus."

She crosses her arms. She is clearly not buying my bull.

"He made me angry." I finally give an honest answer.

But this is not enough. Not for Quinn Fabray. "What's in your hand, Noah?" Her voice is gentle. I clench my fist tighter around the photographs. "Show me what you have." Über bitch is back.

I slowly let my fingers fall away from the small pieces of paper. Quinn takes them from my hands, and smoothes them. She's staring at the back of the photographs. I don't have to look to see what she's seeing. On the older one, someone used a cheap, blue ballpoint pen to scrawl, "Eli, Ruthie and Noah. September 8th, 2001." She turns them over slowly, studying the photos.

My eyes dare her to make the connection. She does. She hands my photos back, and I shove them into my wallet. I turn to leave, to start running again. I see the question in her eyes. It's a question that haunts me as well. I've abandoned my baby daughter. I've hurt my friends, everyone who comes into my life. I can't control myself when I get anger. Am I my father?


	2. Chapter 2: When we were young

When I was little, my dad was my hero. He'd come home from work, and swing me up onto his big shoulders. My dinosaurs would be left in a circle around where I had been.

"Be careful, Eli," my mom would cry, but it was like he didn't hear her. I would hover in midair, like a gymnast. My daddy was the strongest man in the world, and I knew he would never drop me. I trusted him, implicitly.

He would sometimes take me out with him when my mom was working. My dad would dress me up in jeans and t-shirts that said things like, "If you think I'm cute, you should see my dad." I would run around the bars or concert halls, my dad gliding behind me like a shark.

We would come home after those nights, reeking of smoke of booze and cheap perfume. He would give me a bath, and tuck me into bed, between my sheets with the T-Rexes and Velosa Raptors. Then, he would sing to me, his voice rough from years of smoking and drinking.

My mom never knew. She would find me asleep in my bed, Dad waiting up. He seemed like the perfect boyfriend: attentive, handsome, charismatic. Of course, he was responsible for her fall from grace, but not even Eli Puckerman was perfect. I knew she tried not to resent him for what had happened, but I could hear it in her voice when she talked about her life before me. Mom was a senior in high school, the saluditorian of her graduating class. She had a scholarship to a good school, and she was going to be a doctor. Then, Eli Puckerman got her pregnant. She gave up on college, and went to live with the father of her child. After all, if he could love her, he could take care of her.

It didn't last long. Even from a young age, I knew my parents fought. But, I thought that was normal. They would argue about money, of course, and about my dad's nights out. Mom knew Dad liked to party, but she never knew that he took me along. Sometimes, they argued about Mom's dreams, about how she should have been a doctor. They yelled constantly about getting married. My mom wanted Dad to settle down, but he would tell her that you couldn't tie down a Puckerman, he was a sex shark. Sometimes, my dad would yell at her for no reason, or because he was drinking.

Afterward, she would have accidents. I would wait for the sound of fists hitting the walls, or the crack of a belt. Mom might have a black eye, because she "fell down the stairs" or "tripped over one of my toys". I always thought she was clumsy.

I was safe. My daddy was my hero, and I had my dinosaurs. I was so naïve.


	3. Chapter 3: Sweet Child of Mine

_A/N: I admit a certain lack of knowledge about video games, however, I'm relatively certain that the Xbox came out around 2002. If I'm wrong, please let me know! Also, I slightly tweaked chapter 1. Not enough to make a big difference, but a continuity issue which I realized as I was planning this, and the next chapter. Nothing major._

I climb into the driver seat of my old El Camino, and throw my stuff into the passenger seat.

"God, Puck, are you trying to kill _everyone_?" Tina Cohen-Cheng asks me quietly. I don't wonder about how she got into my car; I never lock it. Who would steal from Puckasaurs? Not that I have anything to steal.

"You've heard about Wheels?" I ask, trying to buy myself time. She nods. Tina has been quiet as long as I've known her. Its not because she has nothing to say, but because she's cripplingly shy. "Is he okay?" The words are out of my mouth before I can think about it.

"'Cedes, Quinn and Matt are taking him to the Emergency Room," she tells me, checking her phone. "His glasses cut his face." I feel my gut sink. God, not again. My family is once again responsible for one of Abram's trips to the hospital.

"I'm going, too, soon." She must be answering a questioning look on my face. "But, we need to talk first."

I feel my gut sink. Of the members of Glee, Tina and Artie are uniquely qualified to have a clue about my anger today. And, Artie was on his way to the ER…

Part of me wished Finn was the one doing this. Finn is dumber than a bag of rocks. But, Finn can't be here, because Finn doesn't know the story. Until he found out about Quinn and Beth, he was my best friend. We got close in fourth grade. Neither of us had dads. Of course, his was a hero, and mine … Plus, Finn had an X-box, and we only had an old Nintendo.

"Its Ruthie's birthday, isn't it?" She asks as I shift the car into gear. She glances at me nervously, and quickly buckles her seatbelt.

I nod, and we fall into silence. We drive. I'm not entirely sure where we're going. I'm not focusing on the road, I'm thinking about Ruthie.

My mom got pregnant when I was seven. She came home from working in her purple scrubs, and leaned over to kiss my cheek. Her belly was big. Mommy, you're getting fat, I told her.

She smiled. I'm not fat, she told me. Noah, honey, you're going to have a sister.

I wasn't sure if I should pout or not. Can I trade her for a brother? I ask. I had always wanted a brother. My friend, Mike Chang, had two older brothers, and they were lots of fun to play with. Sometimes, they would take us out in the Chang's big backyard and we would throw a football or a baseball.

No, Noah, Mom told me. I need a girl, to make it even.

I understand, I told her. I'm a boy like Daddy, and you need a girl to be like you.

My mom sighed, but she didn't correct me. She kissed me good night, and tucked me in between the triceratops and stegosauruses.

My sister Ruthie was born early in September. Most babies, even Beth, are red and bloody and squished when they're first born. But, when I met Ruthie, she was perfect. She had ten tiny fingers with a tiny heart shaped nail at the end, and ten tiny toes. Her mouth was a little rosebud. My mom let me hold her, and I felt the biggest, strongest man in the world. I wasn't going to let anyone hurt her. Of course, my feelings toward Ruth weren't hurt by the new T-Rex she brought me.

My dad was as in love with Ruthie was I was. He sat in the uncomfortable fake leather chair next to Mom's bed. He cradled the baby carefully in his arms, holding her close against his chest. I leaned against his leg, and barely noticed the nurse taking the picture. I was as surprised as my dad when the envelope from the hospital came with the picture. It went up on the fridge, next to my school photo.

"We're going to see her?" I'm drawn back to the present by Tina's quiet voice.

I nod. I didn't realize it until now, but we're going to see Ruthie. Tina is the only one who knows about her, so its fitting that she's the one who is here. I pull into the parking lot of the small cemetery. The two of us walk silently across the grass to the little grave.

_Ruth Anne Puckerman_, the inscription says. _Gone but not forgotten_. It gives her dates. The stone is otherwise plain. I had wanted to get a picture of bird, but mom said no. A bunch of dried flowers leans against the grave. There are little carnations and baby's breath. I wish I had taken the time to stop and buy flowers. A pot of those white ones you always see in the grocery store, maybe. But, I come empty handed.

I sink to my knees in the grass, and feel the tears filling my eyes. I can feel Tina retreating. She leaves me alone with my baby sister.


	4. Chapter 4: The Sound of Silence

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Glee, as previously stated. I also don't own the songs/lyrics referenced in the title.**

My dad liked Ruthie, for a while. He'd cradle her in his arms, and show her off to his friends when they came over. But, she was fussy. I don't know what was wrong, but by sister would cry all night long. I'd beg my mom to take her back to the hospital, and exchange her for a baby who wasn't so loud. Even though I loved Ruthie, I thought a little brother who didn't cry all night would be better.

Dad seemed to think the same thing. "Jesus, Nomi, can't you get her to shut up? Noah was never this loud." Mom, whose real name is Naomi, would shake her head. She didn't have the cure for colic. If she did, we wouldn't live in this same little shit hole apartment. That just made Dad annoyed. It didn't help that Mom was pressuring him to get married. They had been together for ten years, she pointed out, and they had two children. Lots of people got married much before that.

They argued more, with Ruthie. I would lay in bed at night watching _Land Before Time_ on the little tv Dad bought for my birthday. But, it was hard to focus on the movie. I'd pull my pillow over my ears, and hug my plastic dinosaur and wish everyone would shut up.

Even though they were arguing, mom didn't seem to have as many accidents, until the night she had her big one.

It was the middle of October. I had just started third grade in September. We were learning about paleontologists, the dinosaur finders, in school. There were crunchy leaves on the ground, and I was begging mom to buy me a new toothbrush and shovel. I didn't care so much about brushing my teeth… I wanted to dig up a T-rex from my backyard.

Mom told me that I had a good toothbrush for brushing my teeth. Dad, more annoyed than ever, told me that there were no dinosaurs in Ohio. And, that since we didn't have a backyard, I couldn't dig anything up. He was meaner since he stopped going to the bars. But, he was still my daddy, and he was my hero.

Mom left Ruth and me alone with him. His poker buddies were coming over. They sometimes let me play, but mostly I played with my dinosaurs and tried to keep Ruthie quiet. That night, Ruthie wouldn't stop crying even though I tried everything I knew. She wailed. I let her play with my best dinosaurs. She screamed. I put my finger in my mouth like mom sometimes did so she could suck on it. She bit me, and I pulled my finger away. It hurt, even though she didn't have teeth. She howled. I got Dad.

He was not happy to leave his poker game. Dad was loosing, and he had been drinking. "Stupid baby," he muttered as he left me with his cards. I looked at the hand. "What does it mean if I have a ten, jack, king, queen and ace in the same suit?" I asked his friend. "What should I bet?" Dad's friends smiled, and told me it was really bad, that I should fold.

Dad came back, and Ruthie was still crying. He saw what I had done, and he yelled at me. " Noah, go to your room!" He yelled. He turned to his friends. "I think the game is over." His poker buddies left.

I went to my room. I was afraid of my dad, then. He had been drinking, like he did before Mom had her accidents.

Ruthie was still crying when I went to my room, and got out my dinosaurs. Dad went into her room, and a few seconds later, the apartment was quiet. Deadly quiet.


	5. Chapter 5: Shots, shots, shots

I stare at the grave, seeing Ruth in her little coffin. She was so small against the cheap pink polyester that lined the white box. The funeral home, maybe, or my mom, dressed her in a stiff pink dress with little bows in her dark hair. I wanted to rip them out. Ruthie hated anything on her head, or near her hair. She would have never tolerated the pigtails that some well meaning adult who never met my sister put in her hair.

I can't admit it to anyone else, I can barely admit it to myself, but I have nightmares. I'm at Ruthie's funeral, except that its not. I see my seven-year-old self clutching the T-Rex from my baby sister. It has a few teeth marks in it, and the tail was bent. I had been so mad when I'd come how from school and found Ruth playing with the toy, but now, the sight only makes me sad. Quinn stands by the little pink and white coffin, one hand on her growing belly, just like my mom did. My mother stands beside her. They're hugging each other and crying. My dad is no where in sight, unlike the real event.

I walk down the receiving line, following the lines of people from my mom's job and my dad's drinking buddies. I think I see Mr. Shuester somewhere ahead of me, and maybe a skinny Coach Tanaka. I get to the front of the line, where Quinn and my mom are standing. I look inside the coffin, and instead of finding Ruth, I see my baby, my Beth.

Quinn looks at me, her eyes red with crying. "How could you, Noah?" She asks. Her voice gets hard. "You got what you wanted, Noah. She'll be quiet forever."

I wake up sweating and crying every time.

Even now, in the bright sunlight of the graveyard, I shake a little bit, remembering it.

I hear the crunch of leaves behind me, and remember Hot Asian behind me. I can tell she's nervous, being here in the graveyard with me. I need to leave, too. I'm not scared, but seeing my sister's grave hurts too much.

Tina and I walk back to my El Camino. Silently, we get into the car, and silently, we drive back to my apartment complex. I park on the street, and leave the car to go in. "Go home," I tell Tina. I don't want her coming with me.

"I can't," she says. I raise my eyebrows. "I have to stay with you." She mumbles something, and it sounds suspiciously like, "Damn paper."

I shrug. I'm not going to argue with her. I don't have the energy. Suddenly, I'm tired, and I only want one thing.

I'm lucky. Sarah and Mom aren't home. Mom is no doubt taking patients around the hospital and making up beds in her khaki medical assistant uniform. Sarah is still in school. I look at the clock. It's only two. I have at least three hours before Mom picks up Sarah from her afterschool program. I'm supposed to be in school, now, too, I think. Then, I remember I'm suspended for punching Artie.

I'll be in trouble when mom gets home, for the suspension. If I'm going to go out, I might as well do it with a bang. I tell Tina to sit on the couch that doubles as my bed, and I go into mom's room.

In her closet, behind the sweats, work uniforms, and one lone black maternity dress, I find what I'm looking for.

I return to the living room carrying a bottle of tequila in one hand, two shot glasses and a beer in the other.

Tina takes one look at the alcohol, fills up her water bottle from the kitchen sink. I set out the shot glasses, and we each fill ours carefully from our respective bottles.

Mom.

The first shot burns my mouth like fire.

Sarah.

The second shot burns my throat.

Finn.

Three makes me warm.

Quinn.

Door doesn't evan need a chaser.

Beth.

Five burns, burns, burns my heart.

Ruthie

The six burns soul.

Dad

Seven hss no taset

Dad

Ate has ni taste.

Dad

Nine is bla-urrrrrryyy

Daaaaaaaaaadgtfvv

_A/N: I have never actually tried to take nine shots at once… I actually sort of had a disastrous experience with my first. ((Before you get up in arms, I'm 22, and my keys had disappeared into a big bowl)). But, since imagine the scene taking place in a very short period of time, I figure it should be sufficient to make Puck pass out. Let me know if I'm wrong…_


	6. Chapter 6: Be a man

_A/N: Thanks to all of you who have been reading/subscribing. I realize I don't have Puck's voice very well… but I feel like he's the only one who can tell this story. Anyway, I'm just up here, begging for a review or two. I'm making cyber brownies with chocolate chips in them and fudge on top for anyone who comments. Thanks! C65_

After Ruthie's funeral, Dad got violent. He yelled more, at everyone. It didn't matter what we were doing, it was wrong. Mom didn't cook enough, and we ate too much take-out. So, she started cooking. Actually, cooking might be too generous. People seemed to send one of two things after a death: smelly flowers or smelly casserole dishes. I wish they would send really useful things: Jack Daniels for my dad, time off with pay for Mom so she could sit shiva like she wanted, bringing Ruthie back for me. Mom would come home from work in the first few days after Ruthie died, and heat up the covered dishes.

On the first night of this new regime, after one bite of Tuna Surprise, Dad threw down his fork. I could see the dark clouds coming, and I ran to my room, leaving my dinner behind.

I pushed_ Land Before Time_ into the VCR, and turned up the sound just loud enough that I could hear it over the yelling outside my room, but not so loud that it would disturb Dad. While Little Foot and his friends did their thing, plates crashed outside my room. My dad yelled and my mother cried and pleaded. When the movie was over, Mom had a cut over her eyebrow, and Dad had gone to McDonalds for a Quarter Pounder.

We didn't eat any more Tuna Surprise.

A few days later, Dad caught me watching my favorite movie. He told me that animated movies were for babies, and that I was a man now. He promised to show me some _Jurassic Park_. He told me it was a man's movie about dinosaurs. I got through the first hour, or so, but the movie scared me, so I turned it off. Dad was passed out on the couch, but that didn't stop him from yelling at me, and telling me that I was a pansy. He promised to toughen me up.

I cried myself to sleep silently that night. I couldn't believe my daddy had hit me.

Three days into being trapped in the apartment, sitting Shiva with me, Dad snapped. Mom bought us Burger King for dinner. I ate my French fries first, and no one said anything about the hamburger. Mom bought a double Whooper for dad, and he got angry because he didn't want onions.

I began to slip away as soon as I sensed violence was going to start. Unfortunately, the movement caught Dad's eye.

I stayed curled on a ball, holding my right arm to my chest long after the door slammed behind my father.


	7. Chapter 7: All you have is your soul

"Damn, Puck, time to get the fuck up," a male voice tells me. I can't place him, but I know he must be on the wrestling team, since its become my wrestling chant.

The voice is quiet, for which I'm grateful. My head is already pounding a little. I run my tongue around the inside of my mouth. Its as dry as though I'd stuck a rag in it, or the dentist was trying to stuck every bit of spit out.

I slowly open my eyes, just long enough for the daggers of bright light overhead to get into my eyes, and for me to see the worried faces of two Asians standing over me. The world starts spinning, and I hope I don't puke.

I feel them press a bottle into my hands. I drink deeply, the water clearing my head for a minute. Two Tylenol follow the bottle of water, and I lay back, waiting for them to take effect. The medicine took half an hour, but eventually, it started working and I could open my eyes without feeling like I was sticking an ice pick in my brain.

Mike Chang and Tina were sitting at the foot of a strange couch. I knew I wasn't in my apartment. It looked nothing like the small, crowded apartment where we live. There were big bookcases on the wall, filled with books. My mom stopped reading after my dad left. The couch is comfortable, unlike my sofa-bed at home.

"Where the fuck am I?" I groan. "And why the fuck am I here?"

"You're at my house," Tina says quietly. I don't think I've ever heard her speak loudly. "We brought you here because we didn't think you mom would want to see you so drunk at three in the afternoon."

Mike looks at Tina. "Also because she was worried about alcohol poisoning."

"I don't get alcohol fucking poison, or the fucking Asian flush, or any of that shit," I tell them. "I'm the Mother Fucking Puckasaurs."

Tina mutters something that sounds suspiciously like nine shots in ten minutes on an empty stomach.

"Why the fuck are you here, Other Asian?" I ask Mike.

He shrugs. "'Cause I figured Tina wouldn't know how to get you up…" he says, quiet as well. "Also, blood makes me sick."

An older man comes into the room. He looks a lot like Tina, if she were a fifty year old man. "Good, you're awake," he says dryly. "Mind telling me why you tried to kill yourself with Tequila?"

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," I tell him. "I just wanted to forget everything for a while."

"Well, did you forget?" He asks me.

I think a minute. I think about Artie, and how I'm going to have to face him sooner or later. I think about Ruthie. I think about my mom, and Sarah. I think about Quinn and Beth. I think about my dad. Soon, my head starts to hurt.

"No, I didn't forget," I say quietly. "Now, I remember and I have a headache."

Tina's dad laughs. "Good," he says. "Maybe next time you won't try to use Tequila in quiet the same way again.

His laughter makes me feel nauseous. I get up from the couch, which makes my head spin and my stomach heave more.

"Bathroom?" I ask.

Tina's dad points to a door, and I hurry off. I throw up until my stomach is empty, and I'm only getting dry heaves. Mr. Chang stands back, and watches me. Then, he brings me a cup of tea.

"I don't drink tea," I tell him. Tea is a drink for sissies.

He shrugs. "Suit yourself," he says. "You can stay over that toilet all night if you want." He walks out, and leaves the tea behind.

Alone, I have a choice. I take a cautious sip. It tastes like ginger, which isn't great but isn't awful. I'm surprised, but after a few sips, I don't feel like puking anymore, and my mouth doesn't taste so bad.

Mr. Chang meets me as I leave the bathroom. "Come upstairs with me."

We pass an empty living room. Tina and Mike are gone. They're probably with Artie, now. Tina's dad takes me upstairs, into a small room. There's a crib in one corner, and a changing table along the wall.

"Tina won't have said anything" Mr. Chang says with a slight smile playing over his lips, but she had a brother." I make a face, and start to say something. "She doesn't anymore. Ben is dead." Mr. Cheng looks sad. "I know what its like to loose your baby," he says. "It make me crazy. I started drinking because I thought it would make me forget."

"But you're Asian," I say.

"And you're Jewish," He responds, stating the obvious. "I'm Korean. I don't get the flush. I know, 'cause I could drink and drink. It used to make Liz so angry. Finally, she gave me an ultimatum. Either I could get sober, or I could loose my daughter as well as my son."

He comes over, and puts his hand on m y shoulder. "If you need someone to talk to, Noah, call me."

His phone rings, and he turns away and picks up. "It sounds like you and I both need to go see Artie Abrams." He tells me after he hangs up his phone.

"Is that good idea?" I ask. I don't think Artie will want to see me.

Tina's dad seems to be reading my mind.

"He'll be way happier to see you than me," he tells me.

_A/N: If you're curious about why Artie doesn't like Tina's dad, I explain it in my story, _My Dad, the Vampire_. I will say that its not just the normal father hating his daughter's boyfriend thing...  
_


	8. Chapter 8: Ring, Ring, Telephone

After Dad left, I finally got up the courage to move. I tried to stand up, but I was blinded by pain. It was stronger than me. I settled for trying to crawl. I sort of managed. I felt cold all over, and numb. It was like I had swallowed a whole bottle of the cherry flavored spray Mom gave me when I was sick. I couldn't feel anything.

"Noah?" Mom called out to me. I looked through the wreck that is our apartment, and crawl to her. I'm not sure I can answer.

Mom's face was bright red, and sticky with blood. A cut along her hairline pulsed a little. She looked at me with eyes that were oddly out of focus. One pupil was bigger than the other. She was curled around her stomach, and the back of her shirt rode up. I could see the bruises along her back and ribs where Dad kicked her with his heavy boots.

"… the phone," I realized she was talking to me. I tried to stand. This time, I managed. I was still dizzy, but the white flash only lasted a little bit this time. I picked up the portable phone from the kitchen, and brought it to Mom.

"Call 911, Noah." She told me. I obeyed numbly. I pressed the numbers and TALK.

Ring.

"911, State y our emergency," the operator said.

"Mymomsonthaflooranshesbleedin'" I told the man on the phone. The words all ran together.

"Slow down, son," He said gently. "What's your name?" All I could get out to tell him is Puck. He told me his name was John.

"Your mom is bleeding?"

"Yes," I said with a rush of relief. He understood.

"Where are you, Puck?" He asked. I think I gave him my address. I might have been wrong and given him Finn's. It was hard to know for sure.

"Is your door unlocked?" I told him yes. He promised me that the paramedics would be there soon.

John says that I needed to get a cloth to press against my mom's head, where she was cut. I told him that I didn't think I could stand up again. I was going to puke if I did. John asked me if I was hurt. I said I didn't know, I wasn't bleeding anywhere, but that my arm really hurt. He told me that it was okay, and I should just sit with my mom.

Then, he asked me what I liked to do in my free time. I told him I liked dinosaurs. He asked me what my favorite was. A few days before, it would have been the T-Rex. T-Rexes reminded me of my Daddy. They were the king of the dinosaurs, like Dad was the king of everything he did. But, then, I wasn't so sure, so I told him Stegosaurs. He asked me if I had ever been to see a dinosaur skeleton. I said no, but that I couldn't wait to be a fifth grader so I could go to the natural history museum.

Just then, the paramedics arrived. They brought up a stretcher. One went to examine mom, and the other one came over to me. She gently took the phone from my hands, and said something to John.

The rest of the time was a blur. I have very few memories of what happened. I just let them lead me around like a little lamb. I was numb, floating off somewhere that was less painful.

I didn't really feel the pain of my arm again until after we got back to the hospital, and the doctors, nurses, case workers, and lawyers had arrived. There is really only one thing I remember clearly from the ambulance ride. We passed an accident from a block away. The police, firemen, and another ambulance where already there. The woman breathed something that sounded like, "Oh, God, Don't let anyone have a SCI."

_R&R, P &TY_


	9. Chapter 9: Driving in my car

Mr. Chang drives us to the Abram's house in his late model van. "Tina's mom has a Prius," he tells me as we walk out to the car. "But, we bought this used a couple of years ago and Liz tells me that I'm murder on cars."

"I don't mind it," I tell him. I like Mr. Chang. ."I drive a POS." Tina's dad laughs. His van isn't so bad. I feel a little awkward riding in a van, since it's a little Mr. Mom, but he rocks it. Sometimes, I wish I could be the DILF on the block. Like a MILF, only you know… male. But, Quinn never gave me that option with Beth.

"Tina and Mike went over already," he explains. "She's been crazy with worry pretty much since Mercedes texted her and said they were going to the ER. But, she stuck with you." I can hear the fatherly pride in his voice. I wish I could hear someone talking about me, or Sarah, … or Ruthie that way. I wish someday I could talk about Beth that way.

Mr. Chang parks his car on the street, in front of a modest two story house. I see Kurt's Navigator across the street, and Matt's van parked in the driveway. A pair of bicycles lean against the side of the house, helmets dutifully hanging from them. Mr. Chang smiles proudly again, at the sight of the black helmet hanging from the dark purple bike.

He leads the way up the front walk to the front door. A serious girl a few years older than Sarah opens the door. She has light brown hair, and big blue eyes like Artie. "Mr. Chang!" She cries, a big smile splitting her face. "Are you here to see Mom, or Tina, or Artie or me?"

He thinks a minute, "Can I come to see all of you?" He asks the little girl, a twinkle in his eyes.

She thinks for a minute, her smile morphing to a serious expression. I can see Artie in her face. I wonder if people saw me when they looked at Ruthie, or when they see Sarah or Beth. "Yes," she says finally. "But, you have to tell me a good fact, first."

Mr. Cheng's expression becomes as serious as the little girl's own. "Did you know that nothing in the universe is ever created or destroyed? It just changes form, Cecy?"

Artie's sister nods. "You told me that last week." There is a hint of a whine in her voice, like she is expecting a new fact.

"How's this then?" Tina's dad asks. "Because nothing is ever created or destroyed, you're made of the same stuff as stars."

Cecy grins and Mr. Chang, and he grins right back. "Okay," she says, finally, "You can come in."

We walk into the hall near the front door of Artie's house. I can see a large kitchen off to my left, and a living room to my right. A staircase with a chair lift led up to the second story. Toward the back of the house, there is a spacious family room with a large TV and a few gaming systems. I don't recognize my beloved N64 among the silvery systems o the shelf.

Cecy leads us down a hall off the living room. "They're in there," she says, moving away. "Don't make him scream this time, please. I have homework to do, Mr. Chang."

Tina's dad smiles. "I'll try not to Cece," he promises. "And, if I do, I'll make Puck gag him first."

Cecy regards me with wide eyes, then nods solemnly and goes off to do her homework. I don't remember having homework at her age, but maybe I just didn't do it.

Mr. Chang knocks on the door, and Tina calls an invitation to enter. We go into the small room.

The first thing I notice is the low bookshelf with the framed certificates along the top. They are written to Arthur Abrams, and go up to third ku. The last date is exactly nine years ago. A framed picture accompanies them: a little kid wearing white pajamas and big glasses. There is no doubt in my mind that its seven or eight year old Artie.

The room is sparsely, but comfortably furnished. A twin bed sits in one corner, a small bedside table next to it. There's a computer desk, a dresser, and two doors leading off to what I can only assume are the closet and bathroom. A pair of guitars and an electric bass lean again one wall, the amp sitting in the corner.

Artie sits on his bed, leaning against pillows. There is a big bandage across his left eye, and his glasses are scratched. His legs stick out in front of him. He wears plaid pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt advertising what I can only assume to be a band. For the first time since I've know him, he wears a beanie on his head. Tina sits next to him, her head resting against his chest. Mercedes has perched in his wheelchair, Quinn, Mike and Kurt brought in chairs from the kitchen.

I look around. "We kicked out Rachel an hour ago," Quinn says quietly, "And Finn, Brittany and Santana all had practice this afternoon." I can hear the note of sadness in her voice. Sometimes, I hear it in my mother's. I wonder if they're sad about what they gave up to have their children… or about what they lost when they gave them up.

Mercedes gets up. "We should probably go, too," she says, looking pointedly at Quinn, Kurt and Mike. I would never admit it, but Mercedes kind of scares me. When we dated, she was into all sorts of kinky stuff… most of which involved me in submissive positions. She's powerful with her attitude, like a big tsunami of Woman. Compared to Mercedes, Quinn was just a little princess, and Santana is a powerful, pleasant friend with benefits. I miss the softness of her curves.

"Quinn should stay," Mr. Chang says with authority. I'm not sure how he knows that she needs to be here, but suddenly I know that she does.

Tina stays by Artie's side. A look passes from father to daughter, but I can't tell if its disapproval, or just disappointment that her daddy is no longer the only man in her life.

I sit in one of the vacated chairs, and wait for someone to say something. Quinn shifts uncomfortably, and studies the pleats in her dress. Tina bites at a hangnail on the base of her thumb. Mr. Chang sits silently. I stare at my feet. Finally, Artie speaks.

"I wish I knew what I did to the Puckerman men in a past life," he says, his voice bitter with irony. "First your dad crashes into our car eight years ago, then you hit me today, on the anniversary of the accident."

_R & R, P & TY_


	10. Chapter 10: Shout!

_A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading and subscribing, but PLEASE let me know what you think! _

After the ambulance got us to the hospital, they took mom and me to separate rooms in the ER. I begged the nurses to let me stay with my mom, but they told me no. They said my mom was hurt, and the doctors and nurses needed to take care of her.

I tried not to cry, but I wanted to so badly. I was scared, and alone. No one would tell me what had happened to my mom. I already knew she was hurt! I was the one who called 911. I wanted to know what they were doing to fix her. I want to see what the doctors were doing to fix my mom. My dad had left the house angry and scary. I wasn't sure I wanted to be with my dad. He had hit me once, and he hurt my mom. If my mommy died like Ruthie, where would I live? I was afraid to ask the question.

Instead of crying, I yelled. It made my throat hurt, but then I concentrated on the feeling in my throat and not the one in my arm. When ever someone I didn't know came into the room, I yelled and screamed. Finally, someone I recognized came into the room. Harry was in his late fifties, his paunch showing under his scrubs. He was completely bald. Sometimes, he and his wife had parties at their small house and mom would bring me with her. She would tell me to be on my best behavior, and I tried. Harry and his wife had a lot of toys for people with no children. I said something once to my mom, and she said that they were foster parents and took in kids whose parents couldn't take care of them.

Knowing the Harry was a foster parent made me feel a little bit sick to my stomach. I was scared he was going to tell me my mom was dead, and that I had to come live with him. I hoped he would let me get my arm fixed, first. I also hoped Harry would still let me watch animated dinosaur movies.

Your mom is going to be fine, Noah, Harry told me. But, you have to calm down. She can hear you, and she's getting worried. I promised Harry that I would stop screaming. He said that would be good, because the doctor would come and set my arm soon.

Harry told me to stay in the hospital bed, and then he wheeled me _and the bed_ out into the hallway. He drove carefully. Harry asked me about the class trip we were supposed to take to the natural history museum as he took me to the big X-ray machine.

As Harry steered me into the X-ray, I watched the hallway, hoping to see my mom. Instead, I saw someone else's mother. She had dark hair, and red rimmed blue eyes. She just kept sobbing, my baby, my baby, my baby.

I saw a boy about my age, his dark hair mussed like Harry Potter's. I couldn't see much else, because they had he strapped down in a million different ways.

Harry exhaled sharply, and muttered that he needed to call his wife, and tell her to make a casserole for the Abrams family. It looked like Artie had been in a bad accident, and the family would need support. I hoped no one made us casseroles, since they just made my dad mad. Maybe, though, Mr. Abrams didn't get mad about casseroles. I hoped so, since I didn't think the boy in the hall could take being thrown into the refrigerator five times.


	11. Chapter 11: Pie Jesu

_A/N: Please make my day… Review! It doesn't even have to be this chapter. You could say something about the other ones, too, if you wanted too. Seriously… there is nothing better than logging into my email in the morning or during lunch, and seeing that someone has reviewed my story and knowing I get to read it in that three hour block known as dinner, nap and veg between work at the office and work at home. Its like a text from my best friend. Thanks!_

Artie's words ring in my ears. "First your dad crashes into our car eight years ago, then you hit me today, on the anniversary of the accident." I can't believe he's said it so plainly. It's something I've never admitted to anyone… They just all assume that my dad is a Lima loser, and I'm just like him.

I look around the room to see how Tina and Quinn are reacting. Artie's face has crumpled and he's crying. It reminds me of the time last year I found him lying on the floor of the choir room, and told him to get the fuck back up. It's the closest I've ever gotten to talking about my dad with anyone.

Quinn is not crying. Her expression is something like a cross between anger, and disbelief. Only Tina, and her father, seem unsurprised by Artie's revelation. Then, I think back to the month after Dad left, when mom was still pregnant. She was working with a lawyer, Mrs. Cohen. Tina's name is Cohen, and her mom is some big shot feminist lawyer…

"I'm sorry!" I say, emphatically. "But, I'm not my dad. I didn't…" I trail off and think about it. What can I say? "I'm just like my father."

"Bullshit!" Quinn accuses, her tone cutting through my heart. "You're just like your Dad? Noah, that's bullshit!"

"I can't deny it. When ever I think of something he's done that I haven't done, I draw a blank. I can't say I didn't knock up a girl in high school," I point out. "Beth is living, breathing proof of how badly I screwed you, Quinn." Tina blushes a little when I say screw, and buries her head in Artie's shoulder.

Quinn looks at me. "You made a mistake, Noah. I made a mistake. And, it turned out not to be so bad. If I wasn't for Beth, I wouldn't be friends with a lot of people, now." She pauses, "And, I made a choice, to give up my baby. I didn't want her to let the one mistake ruin my life.

"I didn't take care of you," I say, "Just like my dad never took care of my mom."

Tina looks at me, then at her dad. "Aren't you the one who stole from the cupcake fund?" She asks, quietly. I wonder how much she knows about the bake sale. A certain meeting behind the school, and a lie about a shark come to mind. "I know you tried to give it to Quinn, and I know you fought with Finn about how badly he was trying to take care of her."

Artie and Quinn both look a little surprised, and maybe angry when the theft from the bake sale is mentioned. I wonder if Artie is mad because if Quinn had taken the money, he wouldn't have been able to ride the bus to sectionals with the rest of the team. The bus ride there kind of sucked, but the bus ride home with our trophy was amazing, even if Rachel did try to arrange a medley of celebratory Broadway songs. The attempt ended when Brittany asked what color medley Rachel was getting: gold, silver or bronze. Sometimes, I think I love Brittany.

"I drink, just like my dad did," I say.

Mr. Chang looks at me, then at his daughter and her boyfriend. "There's nothing wrong with a little alcohol, once and a while, if you're responsible," Artie says. A look passes between father and daughter that no one else catches.

"I got sad, and then I got drunk, today," I point out.

Tina shrugs, "We all make mistakes. Sometimes, we're weak. When you get drunk, all you do is impregnant cheerleaders, no offense Quinn, pass out on my sofa, and hit on both me and Mike Chang. Apparently, he's the Other _hot_ Asian." I turn pink to the roots of my short hair.

"My dad was a really bad driver, and I might be a bit of a maniac on the road," I say.

"No argument, there," Artie says. Tina punches him gently in the arm. "What?" he asks. "I promised myself never to ride with a Puckerman again, after he drove to that diner." One time Artie rode in my car after Glee, when Kurt was off with the girls and Matt's mom's van was full of hockey gear and dog treats. His knuckles were white the entire drive.

"See?" I ask. "And, I taught a five year old to play poker." My dad had taught me on my fifth birthday. He told me that if I could beat him, he would take me to Chuck-E-Cheese. If he won, I would give him all my birthday money from Nana. We did not get to see a large mouse that birthday.

Quinn smiles, and puts her hand on my shoulder. "As I hear it, she was four and a half. And, Sarah took you for all the goldfish crackers you were worth." I should have know she would have heard that story in the few months of living with my mom. Mom doesn't tell family stories very often, there's no point when most of your stories either involve people your children don't know or end in the ER, but the one about me teaching Sarah poker is one of her favorites.

I go back to my mental list, reaching the serious, unsaid crimes.

"I've hit so many people who can't fight, and a few who can." I punched Jacob Ben Isreal, once… okay, maybe more than once. But, most of the times, he deserved it. Somehow, I don't think that counts as much as the time I locked Artie in the Port-a-Potty, or the million and one slushie facials I gave Rachel Berry. No one has anything to say. No doubt they're thinking of this morning.

"I abandoned my baby," I continue. I know my dad didn't technically abandon Ruthie, but we both betrayed our daughters.

"I would hardly call it abandonment," Quinn counters. "Shelby emailed me the other day to say that you've gone to see Beth almost every other Saturday." God, the girls reminds me so much of a lawyer. Her voice gets hard, the way it used to be most of the time when she was a cheerleader. Its emotionless, and authoritative. Although I've never admitted it to anyone, I call the tone her Sue Sylvester voice. "And, you didn't abandon her. I gave her up for adoption. Its not the same thing as your dad, and Sarah."

Tina looks at me. "I don't think he's talking about Sarah, Quinn. I think he's talking about Ruthie."

"Who's Ruthie?" Artie asks.

"My sister," I say. My voice sounds flat. "My dad… my dad," Yet again, I falter. I never falter. I am normally a badass. I am in control. But, today, I can't keep it together.

"Oh, Lord," Artie breathes. "My mom has always said the man who did this to me was behind bars for manslaughter. I thought that was weird, since I'm not dead. But, it wasn't me…"

"Your dad killed your sister." Quinn looks afraid, but also relieved. I can tell that somewhere in the back of her mind, she is glad she didn't keep Beth with me.

"Shaken baby," I speak the words aloud. "He killed her about a week before he ran out on Mom and me, the night that he ran into Artie. Nine years ago, today."

Artie laughs bitterly at the little joke. Tina hugs him, and whispers something in his ear. Mr. Chang clears his throat, and shoots his daughter and her boyfriend/his patient an evil look, lest they forget his presence, and power over them.

Quinn looks at me tenderly, more tenderly than when we had sex. Then, she was drunk on wine coolers and a little bit sloppy. Now, she looks like she wants to protect me. "You wouldn't ever do that to Beth, Puck," she says, her voice certain like a lawyer, but full of emotion.

She reaches into little purse, and pulls out her wallet. She slides two tiny photographs out and hands them to me. They both show blond women in the hospital, holding tiny babies in their arms. I recognize Quinn and Beth in the newer one, and I can only assume the older picture is Quinn with her mother.

"We have to live with our parent's sins, but we don't have to relive them," she tells me gently.

Artie looks from Tina to her father. "Just because our parents do something doesn't mean we have to too. But, sometimes we want to," he tells me. "I mean, look at Tee. Her dad tortures me for a living, and so does she."

Tina hits him, "You like it!" They start kissing.

I look from Quinn to Mr. Chang and back again. Tina's dad stands up to leave, and Quinn and I quickly move to follow.

"See you at the gym on Monday, Artie," Mr. Chang calls over his shoulder. "Oh, and if Tina isn't home by ten, I'll tell Mark to go extra hard."

Artie groans. "Damn fathers," he mutters into Tina's hair as the door closes.

* * *

_A final note: I've been meaning to give credit to the songwriters/artists whose lyrics and titles I stole. _

_Ch. 1: Reference to a lyric from "Neighborhood" on Smokey Joe's cafe (Disc 2 of the original Broadway cast version)  
Ch 2: "When we were Young" by The Killers.  
__Ch. 3: "Sweet Child of Mine", by Guns'n'Roses.  
Ch. 4: "Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkle  
Ch. 5: "Shots", don't know the artist  
Ch. 6: "Be a Man" from Mulan, one of my all time favorite Disney movies  
Ch. 7: "All you have is your soul" by Tracy Chapman  
Ch. 8: I think this is a lyric in "Telephone" by Lady Gaga featuring Beyonce. I have a hard time decifering the words, sometimes.  
Ch. 9: From "Fastcar" by Tracy Chapman.  
Ch. 10: "Shout!" don't know the artist. They play it alot at Weddings.  
Ch. 11: "Pie Jesu". In this case, I'm thinking of the Andrew Lloyd Weber version, although a lot exist._


End file.
